___bend your heart towards mine–let your breast touch mine as nature causes
heart and heart to match rhythm and beat as one,
I stare in to eyes of passion as they radiate love immeasurable
I touch hair that majestically emits colors of the rainbow and is as soft as down
I smell the sweet nectar of your beauty as my senses reel
I feel the warmth of your body as yours caresses mine
I hope that the minutes will morph into hours into days into forever.
Captured Beauty: Melancholy
Eyes of the largest pools of innocent
charm reflecting back to the viewer
exactly what they want you to see.
Life’s questions motives, hears only
The eyes stare, not with hate
as some imagine. Easier to claim
disgust, a shake of the head or shrug
of the shoulders than to look inside
You see me in the places where you
have walked – I was the loner, whom
all claimed was unapproachable,
while I wore my jeans that never
seemed washed, hair long and
sometimes unwashed for days,
adorned in a black leather jacket
when cold over an ever-present
T-Shirt that was underwear during
winter and outerwear during summer
while upon my face the scowl was
Perhaps I was the hip nonconformist
priding themselves on keeping sane
while a World tore itself apart.
Am I the tender beauty whose eyes
have observed enough of the
injustice in my time to flee inside
mind and save that small place
where I might cower or relax without
the unfairness that seems the
established norm today. My hair I
need to cover all or most of my face
because there are villains that are
walking about in plain sight and
working to destroy youths futures
behind closed doors.
I could be the class clown who while
making people laugh at my antics,
was observing all and trying to see
the truth within people.
Was I the ner’ do well whom, most
grownups gave up as lost, dense,
radical – not seeing the true beauty
before them bearing up under pain.
What now when even our society is
split amongst right, wrong, kinda.
You wish for me to leave the safety
of an environment I can control and
move all out into your ideological
self-realized “myscape” then accept
that as the status quo,
pppllleeaassee – hello any active
brain cells moving about in there.
Who decided a few people should
determine the course for millions,
that should scream loudly about our
system of living being flawed.
So I have constructed a wall inside of
my mind where brick by brick I built
over time, upon hurt after hurt and
I shelter there, against pain, injustice
and unfairness practiced as the
norm today, against theft and
mocking those who are the victims.
I do not stare to offend, only while
behind my wall I do not wish to speak
to anyone. Not, rude just please a
little space to hide from this World
and it’s angry at times persistent
demands on my time.
I share this with you, I use my hair as
a shield and a shout out to others
that you are not alone, we are not
any better than other people, just
different. Shielding my eyes from
stares and smirks or even ridicule
is not unheard of, being abused or
bullied because I do not look like
some politician, or hair cut like the
military is no ones business but my
I like me as I am, please try liking
yourself – it works.
So you look into my eyes of guarded
resentment and you think I blame
you, I don’t even know you.
I can see every finger of resentment
pointing inward from my brick wall,
straight towards me. I do not need
to be constantly reminded. The status
quo is doing fine admonishing
me in my own head with droning
droning droning – yesssch.
Sometimes I want to ralf.
Hey, haters of my hair or perhaps that
I wear mascara as a guy, or too much as a
girl, so what.
I love, too. There is a cute guy at
work that I am ga-ga about, though it
would not show on my face; or that
there is a woman who I am love with
whom I would hug her forever, if she
acknowledged that she even had feelings
I have a heart, it can be hurt.
I have feelings, they can be abused.
I have opinions, they can be debated.
I have choices, I have made one.
I stay veiled behind my hair and
I build my wall a little higher, seems
safer and the pain is mine to carry
Poetry “building my wall” Thursday
Captured Beauty: Her Face
Just for a moment, the fleeting
instant, when the rarest of events
occurs. She passes, and the mind
captured amidst all manner of
activity; her beauty.
Does she notice her impact upon
those watching, when today we
must shun all manner of appreciation
of the same.
Must she seek loves beauty in verse
or rhyme, when some find solace in
her whispered name.
When the movement of light played
across her face, touching her lips,
and down, then across her chin;
many the wounded heart goes when
the scene is replayed in the mind
again and again.
The foundation of beauty begins with
the jaw hinge, it carries the ramus-
which is the rearmost part of the jaw.
This bony structure is the place
where beauty ties the face, framing
and defining face structure, is often
observed being kissed by the neck.
The dental plate and the chin mound
accentuate beauty. Whether he or
she, sweet morsels seem to drop into
Beauty defines, yet, the dental ridge
and teeth are backgrounds that
establish the overall appearance.
Then, the skin.
Matters not, if hued, pale, dimpled,
narrow, full, loose, scarred, smooth,
finely haired, or tightened.
The effect is what feeds the mind in
he or she as they view each other,
establishing the basis for pleasure,
for the duration of memory, and
recall of the viewed.
Mind locks upon the moment to recall
with delight that brief pause, locking
away details, as the mind replays the
scene in fractionated snippets, so that
frame by frame her beauty, his
handsome features become
inescapable from the mind.
Where else but in human minds will
the very snippets of our daily
experiences form into a historical
newsreel and rewind for us visually
again and in time again.
What determination makes we as
viewers appreciate the gentle
curvature of chin to neck?
What establishes the focus of eye
to that part of the body, when so
much is ado about other parts?
Simply put, the eye that captures
a particular spot of beauty away
from the norm appreciates the gift
of the person as a basis of who
they are, or at least in fairness,
possess the potential to become.
Matters not as acquainted, as
friends, as intimate friends, or as
romantically involved. To the
passersby on the street, or a dip
and a nod to the co-worker who
chances by – all note things of
beauty from each other.
Only the viewer may or may not
be aware of how much they have
garnered in capturing anothers
She was beautiful; a gift of nature.
Her fluid movement, like a fog drifting slowly from a calm sea.
Hair that moved from the gentle spring breeze, stirred a deep desire that was hidden within my breast.
I saw her as though peering into a vision. A comfortable detachment touched my brow.
Thus renewed my focus was captured, and she held my building fascination.
Was I doomed or destined for joys unspoken?
Was she spoken for and not likely to be interested in one such as I.
I lowly in stature who was humbled by every toss of events.
I could but dream, and in the end perhaps daydream.